


Better Late Than Never

by Selenic



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Pining John Sheppard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-09
Updated: 2013-06-09
Packaged: 2017-12-14 10:33:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/835940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selenic/pseuds/Selenic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Stop thinking then,” Ronon told him, as if it were the easiest thing in the world</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better Late Than Never

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wings128](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wings128/gifts).



> Occasionally I try to remember to step out of my comfort zone as a writer, and try out something new. This is one of those times :)
> 
> This is also a gift for the delightful and inspiring [wings128](http://archiveofourown.org/users/wings128), who is a loyal fan of the pairing ^_^ Thank you for all the pics and discussions, and for all the smiles! ^_^ 
> 
> Unbetad, all mistakes are completely mine. This is my first attempt at John/Ronon, so all feedback is appreciated!
> 
> Crossposted [on LJ](http://selenic76.livejournal.com/14785.html)

 

Better Late Than Never

 

John landed on his back on the training room floor with a heavy and all too familiar feeling thud, and the weight of Ronon kept him down.

“You’re too easy today,” Ronon stated, laying on top of him, barely out of breath and smiling in that almost predatory way he always did when he decked John. It never failed to have an effect on him, though not the kind John was too keen on sharing. And that was only the tip of the proverbial iceberg.

“I have a lot on my mind,” John managed to wheeze out, as his lungs struggled to suck in air. _And a lot on my body too_ , he thought. Ronon’s warmth seeped in through their clothing, making an already uncomfortable situation close to unbearable; John could already feel himself getting hard. _This is not good._

This was exactly the reason why John preferred training with Teyla, who approached things more calmly, treating him more like a student than an opponent. Ronon was so intense, so hungry, so _alive._ It was intoxicating. Even now, his eyes were full of life and laughter and fire; and John burned under their stare.

“Stop thinking then,” Ronon told him, as if it were the easiest thing in the world, and the low rumble of his voice only made matters worse. John was acutely aware of how their bodies were aligned; Ronon’s arms on either sided of him, closing him in, his hips pressing against John, one leg snugly between his and vice versa, thighs and groins seamlessly joined and nestled in heat. _This is so not good._

How was John supposed to stop thinking? About how much he wanted to tear their clothes off and feel skin on skin, to give in to his desire and kiss that deliciously full mouth, to hear Ronon whisper his name as he came. John’s mind rebelled, but his body betrayed him, hips rising to grind against Ronon as a quiet moan escaped his lips.

He’d been thinking about Ronon to a point of madness, unable to decide whether to tell him how he felt, or bury the matter into the deepest, darkest corner of his mind. Their lives were crazy enough without the added complications a relationship would bring, and John was hesitant to face the risk of failure, or rejection.

As if reading his mind, Ronon grinned and leaned down until he was a mere breath’s width from his face. “Stop fighting too,” he whispered, and closed the distance. 

The kiss was unexpectedly slow, gentle, tentative; Ronon’s lips were soft on his, inquisitive tongue asking permission instead of demanding it. Stunned by both the unexpectedness and the tenderness, heart beating like a damn V12 engine, John finally noticed something he should have from the start: Ronon was hard too, cock pressing almost painfully into John’s thigh like it ached to fuck him. He stopped thinking, he stopped fighting, and let the fire consume him. 

Ronon almost growled when John parted his lips and let him in, and there was no sign left of the earlier caution as he invaded John’s mouth, and John willingly let him. Raising his hands, sinking his fingers into the coarse hair John grabbed it and pulled Ronon even closer, crushing their mouths together almost brutally in his attempt to taste all of him. The whole world melted away, and all that was left was the wet, fiery dance of their tongues around each other and the throbbing, greedy yearning of his cock that threatened to drive him insane.

John quickly ran out of air with Ronon still firmly settled on top of him. Gently pushing Ronon back, panting, John held his head and stared deep into those incredible eyes.

“Why now?” he asked between breaths, still a bit puzzled by all this. Ronon grinned widely.

“Got tired,” he said teasingly, with a look of both amusement and warmth on his face, but it was momentarily shadowed by something akin to sorrow. When Ronon continued, he sounded more serious, as if trying to make sure John understood he spoke with nothing but honesty: “Got tired of waiting for your mind to catch up with your heart, when I already knew mine belonged to you.” It was an unusually long sentence for the typically less than verbose man, but it was the content rather than the length that was surprising. And Ronon was right.

“Guess I have been a bit slow on the uptake,” John admitted, feeling slightly foolish for not seeing it sooner, choosing to interpret each sign of affection as friendship instead of something more meaningful as he tried not to face the truth. But regret would only spoil the moment. “Glad you’re not the most patient person,” John said, smiling, and decided he was tired of waiting too. Moving his hands to grab the Satedan ass his eyes had lingered on so many times without being able to touch, John expressed his own impatience by pulling Ronon tighter against him before asking: “My room or yours?”

“Too far,” Ronon replied, voice husky and low, and stole a quick sloppy kiss which ended with a hungry bite on John’s lower lip. “Storage room down the corridor.”

They barely made it that far, but John didn’t mind. There would be time enough to try the bed later.

 

~~~ End ~~~


End file.
